


no ghosts, no gods

by volunteerfd



Category: Angels in America - Kushner
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dialogue-Only, HIV/AIDS, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 14:07:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13953204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/volunteerfd/pseuds/volunteerfd
Summary: An all-dialogue fic exploring if Louis had gotten HIV instead of Prior.





	1. Chapter 1

Title: no gods here, no ghosts and spirits  
by volunteerfd  
  
Summary:

Alternate universe where Louis has AIDS and Prior doesn't. Dialogue only.

  
  
Published at: 2017-08-19  
Revised at: 2017-08-27 17:08:07 -0400  
  
Chapter 1

**WAITING ROOM - _Louis and Prior_**

“My legs are gonna fall off.”

“They're not going to fall off. It’s nothing.”

“From _vibrating._ I’m vibrating, shaking, my legs are shaking and I can’t--stop--”

“Your legs are always shaking and they haven’t fallen off yet. Give me your hand. Feel better?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“There they go again. I’m buzzing. Oy. Maybe they were right.”

“Who?”

“Republicans. The Moral Majority. Maybe our lives _are_ sinful. Whatever that means. Maybe we should all get married and get a nice house, white picket fence, kids running around the yard. Oh God. Kids. Oh God. A _yard_. But I don’t see Pat Robertson dying from a fucking plague. Maybe we should all be more like him.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t you ever say that. Pat Robertson is a _fuckface._ ”

“It’s probably nothing.”

“It’s never anything.”

“Right.”

“Never anything more than hypochondria.”

“It’s a cultural thing.”

“Lou.”

“It’s a proud cultural tradition! If no one’s trying to kill us, we gotta assume our bodies are.”

“Lou?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you. And whatever it is, we’ll--”

“Let’s pretend it’s nothing for as humanely possible."

“Mr. Ironson? The doctor will see you now.”

  
**THE WAY HOME - _Louis and Prior_**

“Prior?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you get...are you going to get tested?”

“I did. As soon as you told me you thought…”

“And do you…”

“No. Nope. I'm negative."

“Good. Good...Prior?”

“Yeah?”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you left.”

“What are you talking about?”

“If you wanted to leave--if you left--I--”

“Lou. Don’t be ridiculous. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

"Maybe not now. But down the road. If it gets too much. I'd understand."

_THE NEXT DAY_

**THE CAFETERIA - _Joe Pitt and Others_**

“Joe! Hey! Pull up a chair. Sit with us.”

“I’m sure Judge Wilson can cut up his own goddamn food for once.”

“Um.”

“How’s the wife? How’s the--uh--kids? You got kids yet?”

“Harper’s good. No kids yet. We’re trying.”

“I’ll bet you’re trying _real hard,_ am I right?”

“Well, damn, look who it is.”

“Who?”

“That Jew in word processing. Rumor has it he’s a homo.”

“Rumor? Is he trying to keep it a secret?”

“I can’t believe they let him work here.”

“Excuse me--uh--who? Who are you talking about?”

“Louis.”

“ _Louith._ ”

“You’re Mormon, aren’t you? How do you feel about that?”

“About?”

“About people like him working here.”

“Well, uh, we try to love the sinner, hate the sin. “

“‘Love the sinner, hate the sin.’ That’s cute. And if he gives us all AIDS?”

“How the fuck’s he gonna give _everyone_ AIDS? I’m not going near him.”

“It spreads, dumbass. Toilet seats and shit."

"He--he has AIDS?"

"Probably. They all do."

“Oh, look, Mormon boy’s uncomfortable. Welcome to New York, kid."

**_WEEKS LATER_ **

**APARTMENT- _Louis and Prior_**

"I thought the world would be different. After the diagnosis. But it's been weeks and nothing's changed. Not really. I feel the same pretty much. I go to work, I come home, I eat, I sleep. Sunrise, sunset..."

"Yes, that is how the world works."

"Oy, I just put a _kina hura_ on it."

"A what?"

"Don't laugh. It's Yiddish for jinx or curse--"

"Louis and his Yiddish words--

"--and now that I said everything's fine, it's all gonna collapse from under me."

"I don't think the world is going to stop turning just because you said it hasn't. The sun isn't going to explode just to spite you. "

"Is that why no one's doing anything? Because the world keeps turning for most people? Because there's not enough...death and destruction...How could anyone think that there's not enough death and destruction to do something? What's the number? How many--"

"Louis. Baby. "

"Am I going to be the one that tips the scale? Not because it's me, personally, who cares about a lowly fucking word processor but because of the number...Do they need to reach a number?"

"Shh. You're shaking."

"I want to drop dead in the Oval Office. I want to die right in front of that fucking--that fucking excuse for a president--I want him to see the sores. Oh, I'm going to die."

"What can I do? _Dolly! Funny Girl!_ I'll do my best Barbra for you."

"Not fair. Making me laugh in the middle of my existential crisis. It cheapens my anguish."

"Honey, nothing can _ever_ cheapen your anguish."

"I meant what I said. If you want to leave--"

"Jesus! It's like you _want_ me to leave. What is with you? _Do_ you want me to leave?"

"Of course not! It's just--I would understand--"

"Louis. I am never, ever, ever, _ever_ going to leave you. Even if you grow two heads and two mouths and scaly, slimy tentacle arms. So you can just put that thought out of your head, OK?"

"OK."

"And neither is Little Sheba."

"Great."

**_MORE WEEKS_ **

**EMERGENCY WAITING ROOM _-Prior and Joe_**

“Thank you for helping him here. That was very kind of you.”

“It’s just what we do where I’m from.”

“Which is?”

“Salt Lake.”

“Salt Lake? You’re certainly a long way from the rugged midwest. Can’t ride into midtown on a steer. Although I have rode out of midtown on a few. Haha--nevermind.”

“Um. Came here for work. Chief clerk for--nevermind. You’re his--brother?”

“Lord, I hope not.”

“Oh. I see.”

“The WASP and the Jew. Like a German fairy tale. Or a wacky sitcom. What a mismatched pair. So you’re not--?”

“Not what?”

“Nothing. Nevermind.”

“I’m not--that. Whatever you were implying. I’m not.”

“No one is. No one is _that_ and no one is dying. Like in The Odyssey. Is that in your curriculum in Salt Lake? Between the Bible and the Book of Mormon? Or are the Greeks too faggy?”

“First of all, the Book of Mormon _is_ the Bible. Part of it. And second of all, I’m sorry about your, uh, about Louis, but I don’t need to stand here and be insulted--”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Really. Thank you for--thank you for helping him. Not many would have…I just thought since you did…”

“He seems like a sweet guy.”

“He’s an ass. He’s just...a stubborn, insufferable asshole who goes on and on...about politics and...all these ideas, all this philosophy whirling in his head. Don’t get him started on Reagan, you know? Actually, he starts himself. And he…”

“Oh...oh, I’m sorry. Please don’t--Do you need tissues?”

“You’re kind. You’re actually kind. Imagine that. An actually kind person. It must be the Utah blood. I’m sorry again. It was wrong of me to assume--”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Do they talk? At the law clerk office thing?”

“Talk about what?”

“Him. This.”

“I don’t know. I expect they do. I don’t partake. Gossip is a sin.”

“ _Lashon hara_. That’s what Louis tells me it’s called. In Judaism. In my opinion, it sounds more like a cheer. Lashon hurrah! I didn’t get your name.”

“Joe. Joe Pitt.”

“Well, thanks for helping my gay Jewish lover to the hospital after his collapse. You are, as he would say, a mensch.”

“And your name?”

“Prior Walter.”

“Huh. Interesting name.”

“Stitched on the Bayeux Tapestry. Like I said. A WASP.”

“That’s, um, that’s a really interesting name. Look, I gotta get home to my wife--”

“Of course, of course. Thank you.”

“I hope...I hope everything works out.”

**_LATER THAT NIGHT_ **

**HOSPITAL ROOM - _Belize and Prior_**

“He’s kind of cute when he’s asleep...and quiet.”

“He usually talks in his sleep. Politics, fascism, the end times...”

“Poor guy, having to live with all those thoughts.”

“I have to live with them, too.”

“Poor Prior and his taste in men.”

“Yeah. You would know.”

“Not fair! I am the zenith of all sexual experience, and it’s all downhill from there.”

“You’ve seen the...the blood and guts of this. How bad does it get?”

“Nothing you can’t handle.”

“And him?”

“Louis? Louis can’t handle _anything._ There you go. I made you laugh. So it’s nothing we can’t handle.”

“Look, I know you two didn’t always see eye-to-eye but it would mean a lot--”

“Say no more.”  
  
**_EVEN LATER THAT NIGHT_ **

  
**HOSPITAL ROOM - _Louis and Prior_**

“Is that my lover I feel pressed against me?”

“Sorry, sir, I think I have the wrong room.”

“ _Prior!_ Don't tease me. I'm disoriented.”

“Belize let me stay here. ”

“And you stayed.”

“Of course I did.”

"And crawled into bed with me, and slept in this tiny little hospital cot..."

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

“Oh God. If it were me...if the positions were reversed…”

“You’d do the same.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what I’d do. I’d leave.”

“Louis…”

“I’d leave.”

"Louis. Stop. No one ever really knows what they're going to do in these situations."

"I do. I'd abandon you. Why would I make something like that up? I can't deal with illness. I can't even deal with my own. I'd kill myself if I could but I can't because you're here. Or I think about leaving _you_ and crawling off somewhere to die. And I don't. Because I'm a coward. Because I need this comfort and warmth even though I know, _I know_ I can't return it."

"My Louis. Always so dramatic and self-deprecating."

"It's not self-deprecating. It's honest self-assessment."

"Hey, I don't know how you want me to respond--if you want me to hate you for what hypothetical you would do in your hypothetical situation--but I really, really just want you to get some rest and feel better, OK? I absolve you for what you didn't do. And now sleep. By the way, Belize says you're cute when you're quiet."

"Why do you stay?"

"Because I love you."

"You make it sound so easy."

"Because it is. Not everything's complicated. Some things are pretty simple, actually. I love you and I'm staying."

_**A FEW DAYS LATER** _

**APARTMENT - _Belize and Louis, and Prior eventually_**

“Home sweet home. Prior will be thrilled. You feel OK, Lou?”

“Oh God, I forgot about the cat.”

“Aw, she likes you!”

“She’s taunting me. She knows I don’t like it. Her. So it’s-- psychological mind games.”

“The cat? Is playing psychological mind games? You can’t pay me enough to live in your brain for a day. Blanket, water...What else can I get you? A book?”

“It must be pretty dire. If you’re being nice to me.”

“Lou, I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy. And you’re far from my worst.”

“Top five?”

“My, but you flatter yourself.”

“Top ten.”

“Not even close, honey. Do you have any reading material that isn’t morbid or heavy? Ooh, _Vogue!_ ”

“I can’t read, anyway. My eyes are…fucked up. It’s like Biblical or something. I keep expecting the gift of Prophecy. I need something from all this stigmata, you know? Another Jew dying for the nation’s sins! The long-anticipated sequel!”

“You are the most dramatic gay man I know and there’s a lot of competition.”

“"You sound impressed.”

“Very impressed, Louis. You’re a very impressive person.”

“Thanks for doing this. For Prior. I...I’m not good with these things.”

"Few people are, dear."

"'Dear.' You're being so nice to me. It's scary."

"I could be meaner if you'd like."

"Actually, I kind of would."

"Fine. You dress like a straight man."

"Lou? Belize? Aw, and Little Sheba is all curled up on his chest. I'm sure he loves that."

"According to Louis, Little Sheba is torturing him psychologically."

"I didn't say _torturing_ , I said--"

"Manipulating. The cat is psychologically manipulating your boyfriend, Prior."

"I know. Little Sheba is an evil mastermind."

"Whatever. Dogs are loyal. Cats are devious."

"I thought cats were stupid."

"Ah, reunited for five minutes and already squabbling! I'll leave you to it. A kiss for Prior and a kiss for Louis. _Passe une bonne nuit!_ ""

"I thought you were gonna start being meaner to me!"

"What?"

"Nothing. Inside joke."

"You and Belize have _inside jokes_ now?"

_**LATER THAT NIGHT** _

**BEDROOM - _Louis and Prior_**

"So, um, things got a little intense..."

"Intense? You mean after you collapsed at work, a deeply closeted Mormon cowboy practically carried you into the hospital, and you spent a night crying in my arms?"

"I guess that's an accurate summation of it, yes."

"Louis. This whole situation is intense. _You're_ intense. And when I fell in love with you, I signed up for everything. So."

"I just want to say that--I'm glad I'm here. I'm glad I'm home. With you. And I...I'm grateful that you're here. And I'm grateful the positions aren't reversed."

"Why are you always thinking about that? You're not guilty enough, you need to punish yourself for the sins of a hypothetical version of you? You can only live in one timeline, honey."

"Can't it be one where we got a dog instead?"

"You're an ass. I love you."

"Is it true? The Mormon guy--he carried me--into the hospital?"

"I might be exaggerating."

"Good."

"I might not be."

" _Prior_!"

_**WEEKS LATER** _

**BEDROOM -- NIGHT - _Louis and Prior_**

"It's getting worse."

"It's alright, baby. We'll get you to a hospital. They'll fix you up."

"There's no fixing me. There's no fixing _this._ Oh God, oh God…Am I going to be the last one? Please let me be the last one."

"I'm putting your robe on, Louis, and we'll go to the hospital now. Belize is on shift and--Louis? _Louis!"_

**WAITING ROOM--NIGHT-- _Belize and Prior_**

"Prior..."

"How is he?"

"We're going to look after him. You should go home, sleep in your own bed."

"My--what--"

"There's nothing more you can do for him tonight. He's in the best hands. I promise."

**_DAYS LATER_ **

**HOSPITAL ROOM --NIGHT - _Belize and Louis_**

“Shh, shh, it's OK. It’s just a little accident. You’ll be OK.”

“ _An accident?”_

“You poor thing.”

“Try waking up in your own piss because you’re falling--falling apart, your whole body is failing you--”

“All set. Lie back down, let me get the covers.”

“--and I’m wetting the bed and have to be tucked in like a _child.”_

“Louis.”

“I think I should break up with Prior. He deserves someone--vibrant and healthy. He's here every day. _Every day._ Tell him to leave me. Please.”

“Oh, I have. Lots of times. Before all this. But now I like you two together. Comfy?”

“I...why do I feel calmer all of a sudden? Like I’m at peace with everything. Why do I get the feeling that everything is going to be OK? And I can drift off right now and it will all be...Oh god. I’m dying. I’m dying. I can’t believe I’m dying. I don’t want to die. Not now. Not now! A lifetime of morbid thinking and I’m clawing--clawing--”

“Shh. Louis--”

“--clawing out of the abyss. I thought I made peace with this but--you can never really make peace with this--oh, I just broke up with Prior. I just asked _you_ to break up with Prior _for me._ I’m a coward. That’s the shape up of my life--”

“Louis--”

“Moments before my death I piss myself and abandon my lover in weakness--””

“Louis, baby, listen to me. It’s just the drugs.”

“What?”

“I put the good stuff in your IV to help you sleep and you’re resisting it. Putting up a pretty damn good fight, actually.”

“I’m not dying?”

“No, honey.”

“Oh. I’m a little...disappointed..."


	2. Chapter 2

_**NEXT MORNING** _

_**HOSPITAL ROOM -** _ _**Louis and Belize** _

“Did you tell Prior yet?”

“Nope. I was waiting to make sure it was a miracle, not a fluke. And this is an honest-to-God miracle.”

“A miracle’s just a fluke with good PR. Anyway, this was a fluke. Parents lose their children. Good healthy men drop dead, leave families behind, and I get to walk around with--”

“You get a second chance--”

“--the mark of Cain.”

“It’s the gift of life, Louis.”

“It’s the curse of death. To the living. To Prior.”

“Don’t say that, Louis.”

“God either wasted a miracle or he’s a sick fuck.”

“Don’t say that.”

“About God? He can take it.”

“No, about Prior. You can be as tormented as you want, but don’t act for one moment that Prior doesn’t want you alive.”

“Prior should cut his losses. Anyway, if he was sick--”

“Not this again. This is just like you. You’re suffering something real, something raw, and you insist on feeling bad about something  _imaginary._ What if neither of you had it. What if both of you had it. What if you never met Prior. What if you were a horse instead of a jackass. Come on.”

“I just want to lie on my side and mope.”

“Oh, Louis. You have such a flair for the dramatic. Are you sure you never done drag? You could be....the Shebrew. The Erotic Neurotic.”

“Don’t make me laugh when I’m trying to pout. You and Prior are always making me laugh. If I didn’t have Prior...Jesus, I’d have no one.”

“If you didn’t have Prior, then--”

“Don’t tell me ‘God would find a way’ or some shit--”

“God would find a away. What, you’re allowed to live in hypothetical worlds and I’m not?”

“Since when are you so  _religious_?”

“I prefer to think of it more as--”

“Don’t say spiritual--”

“--spiritual.”

“ _Blaaagh._ ”

“Point is, you’re in this world right now. So stay here. Got it?”

“Could you call Prior now?”

“Of course.”

  
  
_**LATER** _

_**WAITING ROOM -** _ _**Prior and Belize** _

"How is he?"

"Baby, you got Jesus risen from the dead in there."

"And he's being all Louis about it?"

"And he's being all Louis about it."

"Oh boy."

"Contemplating the sociopolitical ramifications of his resurrection. Working himself into a tizzy about the chaos of the universe. Aww, look at that  _smile!"_

"He's alive, OK? My boyfriend's alive."

"Honey, listen. Before you go in there. Last night was bad. Real bad."

"You mean my neurotic boyfriend who wakes up in cold sweats about factory farming might not handle a near-death experience well?"

"It's more than that."

"You don't think he...He wouldn't..."

"You know him better than I do. Keep an eye on him. I'm starting to like you two together."

_**THREE NIGHTS LATER** _

_**BEDROOM -** _ _**Prior and Louis** _

“‘But the idea behind dee tahk--”

“De Tocqueville. Come on. You speak French.”

“I speak stage French, love. Drag queen French.”

“You know who de Tocqueville is. I’ve mentioned him before.”

“I can’t keep up with all that, Mr. Ironson, I’m just a simple country girl. I can’t read these things you call books with all these funny-lookin’ words.”

“OK, OK.”

“Don’t got me a big brain like yours. All these thoughts, why, I’m awash with a feelin’ of drowsiness. I might swoon from ‘em.”

“I get it, I get it.”

“How’d a simple country girl like me wind up with the smartest Yankee in all of Manhattan? Seriously, don’t you read anything  _fun?_ It’s boring and dense and not even sexy to make up for it.”

“How could something boring and dense but se--Oh. I see what you did.”

“My smart, dumb boyfriend.”

“I haven’t told my parents yet. I could die tomorrow and my parents wouldn’t know. I could’ve died three weeks ago. The gay thing, it was hard enough, they still haven’t fully accepted it. And now this...Ugh. How do I explain why I have it and you don’t?”

“You could give it to me and spare Rachel and Michael Ironson the  _shonda_.”

“Don’t say that! Why would you joke about that?”

“I’m sorry.”

“The thought of--”

“It was in poor taste. I’m sorry.”

“It’s uncouth.”

“Uncouth?”

“Yeah, uncouth. In poor taste. I don’t want to think about you having this. And I don’t know why you would want to think about you having this. And to  _joke_ about it.”

“Louis, I’m sorry. You’re right.”

“What is funny about any of this?”

“Nothing. There’s nothing funny about it.”

“And you acquiesce so easily.”

“Wait, what?”

“You treat me with kid gloves.”

“Do you want us to fight? Do you want to spend your--our--energy arguing with each other about--oh, I don’t know, what’s your latest thing? Black woman blues singers? The gender politics of the Long Island Railroad? I simply can’t keep up. What do you want, Louis?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what I want. I wanted to die, and then when I thought I was going to, I panicked, I fought it, and then when I realized I wasn’t I--It’s a shitty situation to be in. I couldn’t even decide if I wanted to die.”

“What a surprise.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Where are you going?”

“It means you’re--Christ, Louis. It’s not the situation. Not all of it, anyway. You never could make up your mind. No insensitive jokes, but no treating you with kid gloves. Stay, but leave. Some people would, I don’t know, get a new perspective on life and be grateful they have a lover to support them or at least not try to push them away--”

“I just want some semblance of normalcy!”

“We were never normal! What part of us was ever normal? Name one thing--”

“I used to not be sick. I used to not have sores. I used to be able to read for hours at a time and now I can’t even look at a page without feeling sick or headachey or nauseous. We used to be able to have  _sex._ Don’t go! Oh God please don’t go. Please, I knew this would happen. I push people away.”

“Louis, I’m not going to leave. Oh, honey, no. It hurts to see you like this. I shouldn’t have--”

“I didn’t have to worry about telling my parents I’m going to _die_. From  _gay plague._ And explain what ‘open relationship’ is without sounding depraved. Without them thinking that…that maybe I deserve this.”

“Is that what you think?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.”

“You don’t deserve it.”

“What does it mean, anyway, to ‘deserve’ something? You get what you get, that’s all that matters. The viscera of it, not the theory. There’s no equation behind it, no cosmic math, nothing to figure out. We’re at the mercy of chaos, that unforgiving vastness that knows no mercy, wasting time trying to make sense out of the senseless. Justice is a completely subjective concept with no practical real-life application.”

“But honey, you love talking about completely subjective concepts with no practical real-life application!”

“If I write them a letter, maybe I’ll be dead by the time they get it.”

“Ooh, I’d love that. Temper my grieving with profound awkwardness. ‘Sorry, Ms. Ironson, I don’t believe we met before, come in. I’m your dead son’s lover. Tea? Coffee? Sorry you missed the funeral. Post office must have had a mis…”

“Prior?”

“Yeah?”

“You OK?”

“Yeah. I just never thought about after. That there will be a day after. Not the idea of a day, but an actual day. Where I have to wake up and…Brush my teeth. Put on clothes. Piss. Or maybe I’ll waste away on my bed like a fading princess, pining for my lost love. But I’ll still have to breathe and pump blood through my body. It’ll be a normal day. But you won’t be there. And every day after that will be the same.”

“Huh. I never really thought about that, either. God, I’m selfish.”

“In this case, you’re allowed.”

“I mean in general. Forever. Outrageously selfish. How could you date someone so selfish?"

"I care about you as much as you care about yourself."

"Quite a find."

"Yes, I am."

"I haven't been making this easy."

"You don't make anything easy."

"Seriously. Prior. What can I do?"

"You can stay. And not spiral so much. And  _stay_. You're the one who's sick but you're the bigger flight risk."

"I'll try not to die--"

"I don't just mean dying. I mean I worry that you'll do something stupid and disappear and convince yourself you're doing it to spare me."

"Yeesh. OK. No dying, no leaving, no spiraling."

"And never make me read Alexander de Tocqueville again."

"It's Alexis de Tocqueville. And the book was  _about_ him, not by--OK. OK. Got it."


End file.
